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Mazlocke’s Cantrip of Superior Substitution – Extract

A Black Library Publication

eBook license

Mazlocke’s Cantrip
of Superior Substitution

by Graeme Lyon

‘Excitement is at a fever pitch today here in the, er, where are we again, Jim?’

Jim Johnson sighed and shook his head at his co-commentator.

‘We’re at the Light’s Hope Stadium in Talabheim, Bob,’ he said, smiling at the viewers at home, ‘here to witness what is likely to be a classic Blood Bowl match between two great teams, the Talabheim Titans and the Black Water Boyz.’

‘Ah, yeah, that’s right,’ rumbled Bob. ‘And we’ve been sent here to cover this seventh division match because of that incident with the goat during the–’

‘The viewers at home don’t want to hear about that, Bob,’ said Jim firmly. ‘All that matters is that the sport’s top commentators are here to guide them through the athletic spectacle that’s about to unfold. The match will be kicking off in about twenty minutes, folks, so stay tuned. We’ll be back to talk about the teams after these messages.’

Jim watched warily, a broad – and entirely false – grin on his face, until the warlock operating the image capture spell nodded, the light in his eyes blinking off, and then he slumped back in his seat.

‘For Vlad’s sake, Bob, remember where we are. Any more of that and you’ll get us chased by a mob with burning torches. Again. I started playing Blood Bowl to get away from that sort of treatment.’

Bob sighed, his huge shoulders slumping. ‘I know, Jim. It’s just such a waste of time us being here. These little league games are so boring. We’ll just be going through the motions. Nothing interesting is going to happen…’

‘We’ve got this one in the bag.’ Gerritt Vanderwald grinned as he looked at his team. The Talabheim Titans were in their locker room at the stadium they called home, and it was time for the pre-game pep talk. Fortunately, it was far from a difficult job. The team – thirteen humans and the lumbering ogre known as Ghurg – were relaxed and ready for the big match. In their crimson and white kit, they were hanging on his every word, eager to soak up his wisdom like the apothecary’s sponge would soak up bloodied water later. So he gave them the benefit of his years in the game.

‘The Boyz are on a losing streak a mile wide. You guys are the strongest you’ve ever been. Just keep it together and we’re golden. And with the big city commentators here, and lots of media attention, some of you…’

He directed his attention towards Johann Walsh and Kurt Grafstein, the team’s undoubted star players. Johann was a catcher of such skill that Vanderwald was sure he’d be poached by a team like the Reikland Reavers any day now, while Kurt was a competent blitzer, with the attitude of Griff Oberwald and about half the skill, but still better than the rest of them. Kurt’s attitude was far better – he was sitting in rapt attention, leaning forward to catch every word, while Johann seemed to be barely present. No doubt lost in dreams of glory, or at least of the cheerleading squad. ‘Some of you might just get a nice endorsement deal out of this. And that’ll be good for us all,’ Gerritt finished.

Times had been hard for the Titans lately. They’d had a nice winning streak, but in their position outside of the major leagues, that didn’t equate to much money, and they were teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. This opportunity – a broadcast game, with the famous Jim and Bob commentating, here at the team’s home ground – was a godsend.

‘I don’t need to tell you how much this can turn our fortunes around,’ he said. ‘Get out there, play well, and it’s up, up, up for you all.’

‘Up where?’ asked Ghurg, peering quizzically at the ceiling, which given the size of him was mere inches from his head.

Vanderwald sighed inwardly and drew a deep breath.

‘It means we’ll be rich and famous, Ghurg,’ said Walsh softly, looking up at the hulking ogre.

‘Will Ghurg still get to hit greenies and pointies and beardies?’ asked the ogre, his brows creasing with the effort of forming such a long sentence.

‘Always, Ghurg. You and me are a team, buddy. You hit ’em and I’ll score the touchdowns.’ He raised one hand up to the towering ogre, palm out. ‘Titans forever, chum.’

‘Titans forever,’ rumbled the ogre, a smile breaking across his scarred face as he slapped the catcher’s hand surprisingly gently. It had taken a while, but Ghurg had learned eventually not to break fellow players’ arms until he was on the pitch.

In another locker room on the other side of the stadium, eleven green-skinned orcs sat in silence on a filth-streaked floor while a pair of goblins chased a squealing squig round in circles. The diminutive creature had caused quite a lot of the aforesaid filth after eating everything in sight that couldn’t fight back, including the benches and the metal door of one of the lockers.

It hadn’t been a good few months for the Black Water Boyz. In fact, sitting in squig excrement could be considered a highlight. They’d lost every game they’d played this season – even, embarrassingly, against the halflings of the Tinkleheim Trotters – and were so hard up that they’d had to press-gang in the pair of older orcs who usually carried the team’s gear just to field a full squad. Any casualties in the match ahead would be catastrophic.

Borgut, the Boyz’ coach, stood in the doorway and watched his players. He’d never seen them so down before a match. Well, except Goblin, but he always looked like that. It was a goblin’s lot in life to be down at heel, so that hardly counted. He wished he could tell them what he had planned, but since it was… not entirely within the rules, so to speak, he was better leaving them out of the loop. It would be worth it later, when the Titans were defeated and the Black Water Boyz were in the ascendancy once more.

‘Boss?’

Borgut turned to see his assistant coach, Gazbag. ‘Is he here?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. He’s waiting for you.’

Borgut looked back at the players again, feeling a twinge of guilt at what he was about to do. It was for the team, he told himself. It was all for the team.

The Light’s Hope Stadium was packed, with humans from across the Old World, orcs and dwarfs who had taken the long and dangerous trip down from the mountains for the big game. There were even a few elves, keeping to themselves in one corner of the stands, surrounded by haughty-looking guards and servants waving censers filled with sweet-smelling herbs to counter the stench of the rest of the crowd (especially the dwarfs). Gerhardt Mannheim looked around, enjoying the sight – particularly the sight of what looked like a group of Amazons down near the pitch’s edge. He felt an elbow in his ribs, and turned to see his friend Tobias grinning broadly.

‘Look at them, Gerhardt. Dunno about you, but I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s under them feathers.’

Gerhardt sighed with exasperation. ‘What’s under those feathers is more muscle and talent than you’ll ever have in your life,’ he said.

Tobias looked abashed for a moment, then grinned again. ‘Yeah, but I’d still like to take a look. Besides, you’re not exactly a star player yourself, mate.’

Gerhardt bristled. ‘I have the talent and the knowledge,’ he snapped. ‘It’s not my fault my mam overfed me.’

‘Overfeeds you, you mean. Them meals she makes when I come round are always massive. And tasty.’

‘What are you talking about? I don’t live with my mam.’

Gerhardt glanced around desperately and saw a trio of beautiful girls in replica Titans tops sitting behind them, giggling. ‘I don’t live with my mam. He’s mad,’ he said weakly. They giggled again, and he turned away. ‘I don’t know why I hang around with you,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I’d much rather get to know the cheerleaders…’

Click here to buy Mazlocke’s Cantrip of Superior Substitution.

A Black Library Publication

First published in Great Britain in 2017 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Wayne England.

Mazlocke’s Cantrip of Superior Substitution © Copyright Games Workshop Limited 2017. Mazlocke’s Cantrip of Superior Substitution, GW, Games Workshop, Black Library, Blood Bowl, Warhammer, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Stormcast Eternals, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world.
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ISBN: 978-1-78572-641-5

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